Never Settle For Less
by TartanLioness
Summary: After 7x03 "The Hide". Foyle is off to America. Sam is marrying Adam. And then things change. One shot


Title: Never Settle For Less

Author: TartanLioness

Summary: Spoilers for 7x03, "The Hide". Foyle is off to America, Sam is marrying Adam. But then things change.

--

The journey across the Atlantic Ocean was no short one. The ship, full of young G.I.s going home to their wives or girlfriends, was constantly ringing with a happy clamour of different accents, but Christopher Foyle, supposedly going to America for a lecturing tour, sat quietly in his cabin or in one of the common areas. The soldiers paid him little notice but were always polite.

They had been on their way for 48 hours now and Foyle, though trying to focus on what lay ahead, couldn't keep his thoughts from wandering back to the moment he and Sam took leave of each other. The announcement that she was engaged to be married to Adam Wainwright had not come as a complete surprise to Foyle, but it still didn't make him as happy as he had tried to make it seem.

He was happy that Sam was happy; that had always mattered a great deal to him, and he had always known that she would never consider being happy with him for the rest of her – or perhaps more likely his – life. Still, even as he tried to persuade himself to be truly happy for Sam, he felt a certain sadness in his heart. It wasn't the twisting knife of the unrequited loves of his youth; it was nothing like saying goodbye to Elizabeth, or to Caroline Devereaux, and nothing like losing Rosalind; it was just a dull ache in his chest that made him close his eyes tightly against the electric lights, his eyelids fluttering slightly with the tension.

Still, he resolved to attend their wedding and smile for Sam and wish her all the best and maybe discreetly pull Mr. Wainwright aside and tell him what he would do to him if he ever hurt Sam.

Anyone who knew Foyle would know that it wasn't in him to cause a scene or to boldly threaten someone. But, as everyone who had been on the receiving end of a warning from Foyle would know, the quiet, calm way Foyle would counsel someone could be far more disconcerting.

Sam had seemed happy when she said goodbye to him at the harbour; she had talked of children and of the future with such a sparkle in her eyes that Foyle felt guilty about wishing he was the one she wanted.

--

They had been taken up by a small hotel until they could get back on their feet. In separate rooms, of course, as they were not married yet. Sam lay awake and stared at the ceiling. Not married yet. Yet. It was an odd feeling. Andrew and Joe had both proposed to her and she had said no both times. But she wasn't getting younger, she wouldn't mind a few children and Adam wasn't a bad chap. He just wasn't… Sam shook her head angrily at herself. Adam was a good man and she did like him rather a lot. She just wasn't in love with him. But surely that would come, she told herself stubbornly. So many people entered a marriage with only platonic feelings for each other and then those feelings grew to love.

The problem was that Adam was so clearly in love with her.

It had seemed natural to bring him along to see Mr. Foyle off, but when it came to actually saying goodbye and watching him board the ship, Sam wished that Adam hadn't been there, hadn't been in her life so she could have repeated her offer – though originally made in half-jest – of coming with Foyle to America. Somehow, she couldn't and didn't want to imagine Hastings without him.

Sam rolled onto her side and punched her pillow softly with her fist. It was no good.

--

A few months passed. Foyle did exactly as Foyle would do when he faced Mr. Paige again. The war was over, the man was no longer a crucial part of winning said war and now he would be prosecuted for his crime several years and an ocean away.

Sam and Adam received a postcard and Sam cherished it, reading it over and over again. Adam quickly thought that they had lost it, but didn't dare mention it to Sam for fear of making her sad.

But the postcard was in no way lost; Adam found it one day, as Sam sat in the common room of their hotel and read, absentmindedly fingering her bookmark. Her nimble fingers were softly tracing the words on the card as she read. Suddenly, her fingers stopped moving and Adam thought she had finally noticed him standing in the doorway, but she merely gave a sigh of frustration and put the postcard on the coffee table next to her. Twenty seconds later, she was reaching out for it again, touching the material gently.

Adam stood watching her for a while like this, frowning faintly.

--

Foyle was surprised to see Sam waiting for him on the docks as he went ashore. He had written his approximate date of arrival in his postcard, but it was no certain science and he had only wished to inform her so she would know whether or not he'd be able to attend her wedding. Nevertheless, she was grinning cheekily as she stood waiting by the driver's side of the car, the only difference between now and the years they had worked together being the lack of a uniform.

"Welcome home, sir," she greeted him, taking one of his suitcases from him. He nodded at her kindly, feeling very glad to see her.

"Thank you. Are you Mrs. Wainwright yet?" There was a note of seriousness in his jesting tone and though Sam laughed, she quickly assured him that she was still Miss Stewart.

"Hm," he answered and opened the passenger door, humouring Sam in her desire to drive him again. Besides, his own wish to drive again, which had come over him as Sam left his service, seemed to have diminished somewhat in the States; driving on the wrong side of the road had done that.

"How was your journey, sir?" Sam asked, glancing quickly at him before once more turning her eyes to the road.

"It was all right," he replied. "Very long."

"Oh, I'd imagine so!" Sam exclaimed. "Glad to be coming home?"

"Hm. I couldn't allow myself to miss your wedding, could I?" There was a note of something Sam couldn't identify in his voice. Biting her lip softly, she wondered how to tell him…

A few moments passed without either of them saying anything. Sam drew a breath several times, fully intent on just admitting the facts, but then couldn't find the words and breathed out without a word.

"You're rather quiet," Foyle commented. "Thinking again?"

Sam smiled slightly at the reference to their time working together – the time around her anthrax attack, last time she had been engaged, or at least almost so. It had been his fault back then too, though 'fault' was really the wrong word for it.

"I'm not marrying Adam."

The silence was complete. Finally she had just blurted it out and it was nothing like anything she had wanted to say. She hadn't meant to be so blunt about it.

"Or rather, he's not marrying me."

Foyle didn't miss the small note of sadness in her voice.

"How come?"

His voice was soft and he turned his eyes to her, concern shining from them.

"Well, he seems to think I have feelings for someone else and as he said, he couldn't bear to be with a girl who'd rather be with someone else."

Sam was keeping her eyes firmly on the road but out of the corner of her eye, she could still tell that Foyle was frowning.

"Hm," he replied, studying her carefully. He wanted to ask if it was true, but it was none of his business really, and he wasn't sure how Sam would feel about him invading her personal life like that.

"Well, seems to me that if he is right and you do have feelings for someone else, then he did you a favour."

Sam sighed. "Yes, I suppose you're right, sir. But many people have had to settle for loving the person they can get if they can't get the person they love. And Adam is a good sort. I really think I could have been happy with him. Now…" She sighed again and stopped the car. "Here we are, sir."

Foyle looked around, surprised at her sudden change of tone, and found that they were indeed parked next to his house.

"Ah, thank you, Sam. Why don't you come in? I don't have much to eat, but I _can_ offer you a cup of tea."

"Oh, thank you, sir, that's very decent of you," she smiled, but then seemed to hesitate for a moment. Making up her mind, she quickly said, "I'd be delighted."

Once again, Sam grabbed one of Foyle's suitcases and carried it to the step, setting it down while he unlocked his front door.

Sitting once more in the sitting room that she had seen a few times over the years – and in fact once occupied – Sam discreetly breathed in the scent of him while slowly drinking her tea.

"What happened?" Foyle asked and Sam didn't have to guess what he was referring to. She shrugged.

"It was all because of that damn postcard," she said vehemently but quietly. Foyle raised his eyebrows in surprised.

"My postcard?" he inquired softly. Sam nodded, running her hand over her face as though she was tired.

"It was my own fault. Adam saw that I had used it as… well, as a bookmark," she admitted, a blush creeping into her cheeks as she wondered if he'd guess why she'd been making this use of his card. "He asked me about it one day, told me he'd…" _Seen me caress it._ "Seen me use it as a bookmark and asked why. Then he said that, well, that he didn't want to be with… me," she finished lamely, unable to repeat the words he had said. _I love you, Sam, but I can't bear to be with you and know that you love someone more than me. That you love that Mr. Foyle of yours. I thought he was like a father to you, but no daughter would treat a postcard like that! I can't marry you, Sam._

Foyle was quiet for a long time, staring at nothing in particular, his mind churning.

"Adam thought you were in love with… me?" There was astonishment in his tone as well as hesitation.

"Well, yes, sir," Sam replied abashedly, not looking at him.

Foyle felt his chest and abdomen tighten as he tried to suppress the hope that welled in his heart.

"And are you?" His matter-of-fact tone belied his words and the way his mind was whirling. Moment of truth. He knew he had asked his question in a way that didn't betray him. He'd be able to save face and not lose her completely if she said no. _When she says no_, he corrected himself.

"Yes, sir." The words were uttered in a whisper barely audible, but Foyle froze, staring at the young woman who was looking distinctly embarrassed and apologetic.

When he didn't reply, Sam closed her eyes briefly, willing the tears to disappear. It was no more than she had expected, but hope is a fickle little friend, and she began to apologise profusely for what she had said.

Just as she set her cup down on the coffee table, intent on leaving, Foyle's hand shot out and grabbed hers. Foyle was not a man of many words. And he was not very good at them, especially when it came to delicate situations like this. He had no idea what to say; admitting that he loved the young woman who even now had tears brimming her eyes but was bravely trying to hold them back, was too difficult. He had never even told Rosalind enough. But he didn't want to lose Sam again, and this time not to another man – this time he couldn't just try to be happy for her happiness because this time, he would be the cause of unhappiness in her. No, she couldn't be allowed to leave the house. Not if she loved him, not if she was telling the truth.

Foyle stared at their joined hands as Sam stared at him for a long moment, then he pulled her to her feet and into his arms.

"Don't leave, Samantha," he said softly, still holding her hand in his in a tight grip. Her dark eyes were huge and shining from the tears she was holding back and he saw her eyelids flutter a very little bit.

His free hand came up to rest on her cheek and Sam's eyes widened even more as understanding dawned upon her. He wasn't rejecting her. She swallowed a lump in her throat.

It seemed like they stood there forever. Then Foyle slowly let his lips descend on hers, capturing her mouth in a sweet kiss.

When they parted, he noticed Sam's eyes were closed and tears slid from underneath them and down her cheeks. Her lips slowly broke into a smile and when she finally opened her eyes to look at Foyle, they were shining with something more than tears.

"Never settle for loving the person you can get, Sam," he said to her softly. "Love is too precious for that."

THE END.


End file.
